


They Ain't Gonna Last A Day

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Series: Newsies Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Oscar is a j e r k and we don't like him., Underage Smoking, canonverse, just race's cigar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: “Weasel, he’s right, you gave him eighteen.” Davey fanned the papers out onto of the stack in front of the distributors, right in front of Weasel. “Now look closely,” he said cheekily before he counted out each and every paper. “Sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen. Now, really. I’m sure it’s an honest mistake - especially since Oscar barely passed his second year of arithmetic.”The other boys laughed at the crack, and Oscar dove for Davey. He sidestepped easily.“Real cute, Oscar.” Davey winked teasingly at him, watching the man go red in anger. He fished a quarter from his pocket and put them onto the change box. “Give the new kids fifty more papes.”What if you switched Jack and Davey's roles but not their personalities. What do you think would change?





	They Ain't Gonna Last A Day

**Author's Note:**

> bro I got this request forever ago, and i got started like right away, but i got too ambitious and i wanted to WRITE IT A L L
> 
> and then it got daunting and i just stopped writing bc im weak
> 
> anyway, it's  _here!!!_ hope you all like it!
> 
> please don't forget to comment when you're done

It was just this side of cold. The wind skated across Davey's arms and tousled his hair; it lifted goosebumps on his arms and he knew, somehow, that he was going to be miserable this winter.

Coming out of the lodging house, the boys were yawning and rubbing sleep out of their little eyes.

Race was lighting up a cigar as Davey passed, cursing at his matches as he went.

Elmer shuffled his feet, scrubbing knuckles in his eyes and tugging at his hair in a sorry attempt to wake himself up. Crutchie was right behind him, though the boy looked awake and alert, looking over the other boys as they made their morning journey to the ministry.

One of the younger boys, one about twelve years old, named Otto came and tucked himself under Davey's arm, trying to pull extra warmth from anywhere he could.

"Cold?" Davey asked.

"That's damn obvious, and you _know it,_ Dav," Otto said moodily. Davey flicked his forehead at the curse.

After the breakfast, the boys were a lot happier and ready to work. They walked the distance to the newspaper distributors, the group splitting off from itself as the different boys went to different papers.

The line formed itself up to Weasel's coinbox quickly, the boys falling in step with each other, laughing and fooling around all the way.

Davey smiled as he looked around his boys, all ready to get their day's work in. He walked right up to the front of the line, and Crutchie slotted himself behind him.

"I'll take my usual hundred," Davey said, dropping his quarters in the box. Morris counted out his papers and Davey took them to the sidelines, waiting for Crutchie.

He and Crutchie usually haunted the same selling spots; Davey insisted that it wasn't just because Davey was the most capable to deal with any creeps that target Crutchie, but they both knew that it was only half true. It was a vantage point, where the were stationed. Davey could look over most of the younger boys while they worked, tense with his papers in-hand, looking for any trouble that he would have to interrupt and correct.

In that same vein of worry, Davey always stayed behind until most of the boys had bought and collected their papers. The line, while looking like a chaotic mess, was actually an organized masterpiece, created by trial-and-error attempts and covert nudges with elbows and hushed words. The younger kids were near to the front, with the older boys occasionally spaced in between them, and finally taking up the rear. They had learned that if the younger boys were trailing behind and since the older boys had already left for the day, it was much more likely for Morris and his brother to cheat the boys out of their papers.

So they came up with a way to avoid that.

Davey dropped himself onto an empty crate and watched over everyone. There were a two new kids in the line, a fact that caught his eye quickly.

They looked very out of place - if Davey was putting it lightly. Their clothes were clean and looked new (at the very least, not _threadbare_ ), and they weren't grimey, as most of the boys here were.

The older of the two looked confident in himself, like he was born to be here. His chin was held high in pride, but he didn't look down his nose at any of the boys.

David wondered if these boys came to The World out of ignorance, or ill-founded pride.

The World was known for being one of the toughest papers in New York City. If their tendency to try and cheat their boys wasn’t enough of a deterrent, there was Weasel and his little minions, the Delancey brothers. They were never... _nice_ to the newsies, if you were going to put it kindly.

They were much gentler newspaper distributors in the city. Something much more suited to two new boys just elbowing their way up to the table.

After Albert, the two new boys were next.

“I’ll take twenty papes,” the older boy said. _Papes_ stuck to his tongue like molasses, like he picked the line up from one of the boys and wasn’t exactly sure about how to use it.

Oscar began to count them out, and the boy began to step further in the line. Weasel put a quick stop to that.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

“Gonna sell my newspapers,” the boy replied with much the same ferocity.

“Money up first.”

The boy lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll pay when I sell.”

“Well then. I guess you ain’t getting papes.” Weasel shook his head and Oscar dropped the papers to the collective stack, straightening the pile up.

The boy cursed darkly, but dug into his pockets for a dime. He slapped it down onto the change box, and Oscar shoved his papers into his chest. He stepped off to the side, tugging his little brother with him. Davey watched carefully as he poked through his papers, counting every one of them. He looked up with a frown, and Davey knew that they were about to have trouble. Davey stood up, drawing a few of the boy’s attention as he did.

“Hey!” The boy turned back on his heel. “You tryna cheat me? What kind of business do you think you’re running?”

A sneer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Davey thought that the other boy looked a lot like a peacock, puffing up the way he did. “You gave me _eighteen_.”

Weasel spluttered. Before any words left his mouth, Davey was across the lot. “Did you fellas see how nice I was to this new kid?” Weasel asked, looking over the other boys. “And what do I get? _Ungrounded accusations._ ”

“Hey, look. I just want what I paid for-!”

“He said _beat it_ , gutter rat!” Oscar laid a hand on his chest, preparing to shove him away, just as Davey snatched the papers from the kid’s hands.

“Hey!”

Davey ignored the boy’s protest as he turned around and began counting out the newspapers.

He frowned. “Weasel, he’s right,” Davey said, “you gave him eighteen.” He fanned the papers out onto of the stack in front of the distributors, right in front of Weasel. “Now look closely,” he said cheekily before he counted out each and every paper. “Now, really. I’m sure it’s an honest mistake - especially since Oscar barely passed his second year of arithmetic.”

The other boys laughed at the crack, and Oscar dove for Davey. He sidestepped easily. Weasel pulled two more off the stack and bundled them in with the other eighteen before shoving them into the new boy’s chest.

“Real cute, Oscar.” Davey winked teasingly at him, watching the man go red in anger. He fished a quarter from his pocket and put them onto the change box. “Give the new kids fifty more papes.”

“I don’t need them,” the boy snapped.

“Jack,” the smaller one said, tugging on the back of his shirt insistently.

The boy, (this _Jack,_ Davey supposed) pulled back from his little brother. “ _No._ We don’t need charity. Come on. We’ve got things to do.” He stamped off, little brother in-tow and papers in-hand.

Crutchie called after them, shouting about Davey. “You know who he is?” he asked.

Jack stopped in his tracks and looked at Davey over his shoulder, eyes appraising and quizzical, scrutinizing every breath Davey dared to take.

“What’s so special about him?” he asked.

Davey simply grinned at him. “Nothin'. I'm just... Someone you’ll probably see around.”

Jack raised a dubious eyebrow, but soon turned again, taking his brother and pulling him off to go and try to sell his papers.

“He ain’t gonna last a day,” Race said, lighting a cigar up so that smoke swirled around his face, watching how the tip lit up on the intake.

Davey shook his head. “I guess we’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> [and here's my tumblr - stop on by if ya want](https://itsnewstome.tumblr.com)


End file.
